


Letter to Santa

by romanticalgirl



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willow writes a letter to Santa and, like the eight days of Hanakkah, keeps getting the presents she asked for</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dear Santa

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 2000

Willow looked around the room then ducked her head, hiding the sheet of paper from any prying eyes. Surely it couldn’t hurt, she rationalized. It’s not like it’s completely against everything I believe in. She pressed the tip of her pencil to the paper and sighed. Get cracking, Rosenberg, she insisted mentally. You’ve only got… she looked up at the calendar, making sure that the two scribbled words were well hidden…six days left.

Sighing again, she looked down at the paper. All right. I can do this. I’m strong and smart. I have no fear. And I really should know better. She hung her head even more and read the two words to herself.

"Dear Santa."

I’m horrible, she thought. I really shouldn’t be doing this, but how is it worse than wishing on a star? Parents don’t go around telling their kids not to wish on a star because some religious icon or the other would be offended, did they? How was Santa any different?

"I’m not sure of the etiquette required for this, and Xander’s examples in the past have done less to get him what he wanted than to let me know what I had to spend my allowance on. That said, I wanted to get my wish list in while there was still time. I don’t actually know that you can help me, but I figured it couldn’t hurt."

"Although, if it came down to it, I’m probably on the naughty list. Do you keep lists of Jewish children just in case?"

"All right. Dear Santa, this is what I want for Christmas. Or Hanukkah. Or both. I’m flexible with the date. There’s just…there’s one thing I want for Christmas more than anything else and I know no one I know is actually going to give it to me."

"Santa, what I want is…well, it’s sort of a bunch of things. It all comes from watching late night movies on bad cable channels. There’s all this soft-core porn and it works its way into your head, even when you think you’re above it completely. But apparently, the mighty can fall, Santa."

"I want Giles."

"And Xander."

"And Oz."

"And, what the hell, throw Spike and Angel in for kicks."

"That’s right, Santa baby, little Willow’s all grown up and she wants an orgy. I want to watch and I want to do. I want to wake up Christmas morning in my dorm room and find all of them, nicely wrapped up in bows under my tree. I want them wearing nothing but bows, Santa. Well, except for Angel. I think he’d look cute dressed as his namesake. A simple sheet, some wings, a halo…make the sheet see through. And a cock-ring. I think that should be included, don’t you?"

"On second thought, let’s make all the boys in the holiday spirit. Angel as an angel. Spike as an elf. Ears, hat, the works. Only instead of making toys, I want him to bring some to play with. Dildos, nipple clamps, whips, chains, and any other little kinky thing a vampire can get his hands on."

"Oz can be a reindeer. Antlers to hang onto while I ride him. A collar with a bell on it so I can hear him…er, coming. I wonder if reindeers have saddles."

"Xander can be a present. Bows on his nipples and his cock, not too sticky though, since I don’t want to hurt him. Maybe he can provide the substance to keep them affixed. Ribbon…velvet ribbon. Lots and lots of velvet ribbon."

"And Giles. Giles I want dressed as you, Santa. Black boots for licking, a full beard for tickling, a Santa cap just because it looks cute. I want to sit on his lap and tell him all the things he can give me for Christmas."

"Maybe, since he’s a friend, you could throw Doyle in the mix…or Devon. I’m not being too picky, Santa. Dress him up as a snowman and see how long it takes me to make him melt. Only instead of a carrot for a nose, since we’re being decadent, use a candy cane and we’ll see if things can get a little sticky. There’s nothing better than a candy cane between your lips. They’re so good for sucking."

"Well, Santa. That’s all I’m asking for. I’ve included a spell to help, if you don’t think you can manage it on your own. Buffy’s told me that it’s important to leave a little something out for you too, so I’ve chained her up under the tree. Take her out; show her a good time. She could use some holly, jolly ho-ho-ho-ing. There’s some other stuff she could use too, but I’ll let her write her own letter."

"There’s also some cookies and milk. And cheese. Buffy likes cheese."

"Sincerely, Willow."


	2. Naughty but Nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to have additional chapters, but this is the last one I wrote.

Willow woke, blinking rapidly in the morning sunlight. She glanced over at Buffy’s bed, surprised to find it empty.

They’d agreed, since Buffy had spent the first day of Hanukkah with her and her parents that Willow would spend Christmas with her. Except, here it was Christmas and there was a distinct lack of best friend.

She sighed and sat up. Maybe Buffy was just in the…her thoughts stopped, arrested by the sight before her.

Slumped in her desk chair next to the tiny Christmas tree and wearing a Santa suit, was Giles.

Unconscious.

Crawling slowly off the bed, Willow walked over to him. The plate she’d put out after Buffy had gone to sleep was empty of the cheese, crackers and cookies and there was a note in their place.

"Dear Willow – an awful lot of nice can make up for a much overdue naughty. Couldn’t get you everything you asked for. Hope this will suffice. – Santa."

She looked over at Giles to ascertain that he was breathing normally then scrutinized the note. Definitely not Buffy’s handwriting. Not Xander or Giles’ either.

Narrowing her eyes, she walked slowly back to her bed, trying to decide what to do.

***  
Giles groaned softly as he came to, shaking his throbbing head slightly to clear it. His body felt heavy and weightless at the same time. Squeezing his eyes closed tightly, he took a deep breath and opened them, wary of whatever he might see.

His breath left him.

Willow was sitting on the edge of her bed, wearing absolutely nothing at all. Well, he amended mentally as he felt his body begin to respond, she was wearing a particularly inviting smile.

"Merry Christmas, Giles."

He tried to speak and gave up, realizing he couldn’t think of a single proper thing to say. His mind was foggy, unwilling to think and process anything other than how her skin looked as if it would feel like silk against his.

She stood up and he swallowed hard, feeling his cock harden even further. "I was sort of naughty this year, writing a letter to Santa." She moved closer to him; the sway in her hips almost enough to divert his attention from the hard tips of her breasts, deep pink in the midst of her creamy flesh. "But I guess he didn’t mind…I guess I’ve been good enough that he gave me what I asked for."

"Wh…" his throat was dry. "What was that?"

She just smiled again, stopping as she reached him. Her legs brushed against his knees and he found his eyes staring at the thatch of dark auburn curls. "You’ll see soon enough." She bent forward until her face was barely an inch away. "I don’t suppose you’ve looked in a mirror lately?"

He shook his head, mesmerized by the soft curve of her lips, tantalizingly close. He barely caught the groan of disappointment that threatened to escape when she pulled away. She took hold of Buffy’s closet door and swung it open so that he could see his reflection in the full-length mirror.

His eyes widened. He was wearing a Santa hat, a full white beard and moustache, a Santa coat which was hanging open to show his bare chest, a red G-string that did nothing to hide her effect on him and black boots. "Good God."

"Nope," she giggled. "Santa."

He closed his eyes in horror, wondering how in the *hell* he’d managed to end up in such an outfit. Willow made a soft noise of annoyance and tilted his chin up so that she was looking right at him. He opened one eye, surprised by her smile. "I…"

"Now, if I’ve got the mythology right, you’re supposed to tell Santa what you want for Christmas, right?" When he nodded, she bit her lower lip and smiled, looking tasty and inviting. "You’re supposed to sit on his lap and tell him what you want, right?"

"Y…yes."

Without looking, Willow reached down and grabbed the band of the G-string and tugged. The Velcro that held it together ripped apart and she let the material fall. Giles shuddered as his cock sprang free, moving toward her slightly. As hard as he was, it didn’t move far, remaining painfully erect. "All right, Santa," she straddled his legs and walked forward, leaning the seat back as she went. It was only then that Giles realized his hands were tied to the legs of the chair. Positioning herself over him, Willow brushed the tip of his cock along the warm cleft between her legs. They both shivered as sensation swept through them. Lowering herself onto him, Willow clenched her teeth as he slid inside her, burying himself in her hot depths. "Now that I’m on your lap, shall I tell you what I want?"

He sat beneath her, trembling. A large number of fantasies that had kept him company over the past few years were rapidly coming true and all he could manage to do was sit there. Staring into her eyes, he tugged at the ropes holding his hands down as he leaned forward.

Willow rubbed her chest against his, loving the feel of the rough hairs against her breasts, teasing the hardened tips until they felt like they were on fire. Reaching behind him, she tugged the rope she’d hooked up, releasing his hands. Giles moved them automatically to her hips, propriety struggling with desire.

"Now Santa, I haven’t finished telling you what I want. You’re not going to make me get off your lap already, are you?"

"No," he whispered. Clearing his throat, he tried for a deeper voice. "No. So what is it you want, little girl?"

Beginning to move her body, stroking his cock with the tight muscles of her vagina, she leaned forward, her breath warm in his ear. "For starters, I want to feel your body move beneath mine, desperate with passion and excitement."

Giles held onto the sides of the seat and thrust up to meet her. Her hands slipped under the jacket, caressing his skin with delicate fingers. "Done," he breathed, continuing his motions, matching her rhythm.

"The second thing I want," Willow nibbled his earlobe, running her tongue along the outside of his ear, playing with the earring he’d taken to wearing as of late. "Is to feel your hands touching me. I want to feel you play with my nipples until they’re so hard they hurt. I want to feel your fingers tangle in my hair, I want your fingers wet with my arousal. I want you to squeeze my butt as you move inside me. I want you to…" she stopped as one of Giles’ fingers found her clit, rubbing soft circles around the hard flesh. She was breathing heavily, practically panting as the other hand found a nipple and copied the other’s movements.

"Like this?" he asked, his own breath short. His thumbs joined the fingers, rolling both hard nubs as Willow clenched her muscles, squeezing his cock with the short, small thrusts. She nodded, her teeth brushing the throbbing pulse in his neck as she nibbled more skin. He pinched the nipple, holding the tight pressure until the sensation reached her nervous system and she cried out, straightening, forcing her chest out.

Giles took the opportunity to wrap his lips around the other nipple, sucking hard at the puckered skin. Willow bit her lips, suppressing the scream that hovered just behind her teeth. She thrust down hard, the first wave of her orgasm hitting them both, buffeting him with a warm rush. He smiled around her, pulling away, flicking the tender bit with his tongue. His other hand worked its way into her hair, running along the smooth strands. "What next?"

She was shaking with her orgasm, barely thinking. Barely able to think. Her head rested on his shoulder as she took deep breaths, all the while conscious of the fact that he was still hard, still buried inside her. "Next I thought I’d ask for you to carry me to my bed and see if you can get any deeper inside me."

Giles grinned and hooked his hands under her thighs, holding onto her as he wheeled her chair over to the bed. Standing, he lifted her and pushed the chair out of his way. He lay her down gently, slowly, keeping their bodies connected. She was tight around him, holding him, her body spasming around him, inviting him to lose control.

Lying above her, he struggled to remove the coat that hampered his arms. Willow pushed at the material, needing to feel every inch of him. Giles shrugged out of it, tossing it to the side, uncaring of where it landed. He knelt between her thighs, holding her body to him as he slowly, carefully began to thrust.

His smooth rhythm was the exact opposite of the short, desperate strokes they’d shared on the chair. He took his time, gliding into her and lying there, buried to the hilt for a moment, before pulling out until just the tip of his cock was bathed in her wetness. Repeating the gesture, he smiled down at her.

Willow smiled back, sure that her eyes were glazed and clouded with desire, her body tingling with the need for his touch, his love. He kissed her tenderly, licking her lips, dipping his tongue into her mouth as though she were some sort of elixir. His lips moved to her neck and shoulders, caressing the skin with their intimate touch.

"Santa?" She asked softly.

"Mmm," Giles responded, nuzzling the hollow of her throat, his tongue lapping up the single trickle of sweat that was forming, tasting need and desire.

"You know what else I want?"

His movements increased marginally, still the smooth, easy stroke, but this time there was force behind it. He didn’t pause any more with each downstroke, preferring to keep moving, bring her back to the brink. "What?"

Willow’s legs wrapped around his boots, the leather crinkling softly. "I want you to tell me what a naughty girl I’ve been."

He couldn’t stop the groan this time as she deliberately ran her legs over the leather, bringing the sound and feel of it, the smell of it to mind. "You have been naughty," he agreed. "And naughty girls deserve to be punished."

"We do," she nodded, feeling the heat building again in her stomach and lower, both from his thrusts and the promise of his words.

"Instead of sitting on my lap, I suppose I should have turned you over it, rubbing that smooth ass of yours before I spanked you. It would only be proper retribution for the things you have done."

"Yes," Willow moaned.

Giles matched his strokes to her breathing, the force behind them growing as he sped up. "Disagreeing with me, using magic without me present. I suppose you’ve done other things as well, haven’t you Willow?"

"Yes," she panted.

"You’ve been thinking…"

"Oh yes," whimpering now, she crossed her ankles, tightening her thighs around him.

"Wondering what it would be like to wrap your lips around Xander’s cock? Feeling Spike’s cool erection penetrate you? Oz thrusting into you from behind?"

Willow shivered, incapable of speech. She pushed herself up to meet his hips with her own, not caring for rhythm, only for the frenzied coupling, the thrust of his cock, the grinding of her clitoris against his skin.

"Me, taking you against the wall, slamming you into it as I…I…" He gave up speaking, his actions saying more than he could as his orgasm exploded inside her. He did cry out, thrusting hard and deep. Willow’s channel contracted around him, milking his climax, her hips slamming into his as she struggled for her own release. She dug her heels into the leather, the cool surface bringing other naughty thoughts to mind, sending her screaming over the edge.

***  
Giles’ Santa hat fell forward, the puffy white ball at the end of it bonking Willow on the nose. She giggled weakly, brushing it away. Their eyes met as the hat fell from his head to the pillow beside hers. "Willow, I…I…"

"Is Santa always this good about giving people what they want?"

He nodded, remembering vaguely his conversation with Buffy the day before. She and Riley had asked him to help them out with a present for Willow. That was the last thing he’d remembered before waking up to the sight of her. "Only if they really deserve it."

"I can’t imagine what I’d have gotten if I’d been really, really good." She let her fingers trail across his chest. "Oh! By the way, there’s a present for you under the tree."

He chuckled warmly, "Does that mean I have to return what I just got?" When she laughed, shaking her head, he leaned down to kiss her. "Merry Christmas, Willow."

"Merry Christmas, Giles."


End file.
